Divine Intervention
by PrincessTverski
Summary: Caroline Woods is a Ph.D. student with a problem. Unfortunately her problem is bigger than that of her peers. Instead of worrying about keeping on top of her research, Caroline has the voice of a Norse God in her head. Now its a race against time to put Loki's mind back in his body, and get Caroline out of harm's way. Full summary inside. Loki/OFC. Rated M. In Progress.
1. Deal with the Devil

**Description: Caroline Woods is a Ph.D. student in Colombia University's Department of Germanic Languages. When she hits a road block with her dissertation research, her well connected advisor secures her an interview with SHIELD's most dangerous captive. Whether or not Loki will speak to her during their interviews becomes the least of Caroline's problems, however, when an otherworldly force breaks into SHIELD's secure detainment center. Loki's body may be missing, but his voice is now in her head. **

**It's a race against time to put his mind back in his body, and as their thoughts and memories begin to blur Caroline realizes they'll need all the help they can get. **

**A/N: This is set post-Avengers, but before Thor 2 (or possibly in place of). I've also not seen Captain America 2 yet (though I've figured some things out from tumblr), so for all intents and purposes, SHIELD is a fully functional, legitimate agency.**

**Comments, Questions, or Constructive Criticisms? Please feel free to message me!**

* * *

_Chapter One: Deal With the Devil_

**Present Day**

Caroline frantically dashed around her small apartment, stuffing things into a leather satchel. Cursing, she flipped through a stack of books, notebooks, and loose papers precariously stacked on her desk, eventually finding a black folder. She threw that in the satchel too, and, grabbing her keys from off the arm of the sofa, flew out the door.

"fuck!" she cursed, pulling the hood of her raincoat up under the sudden downpour of rain she'd stepped into.

Caroline sprinted towards the subway stop around the corner of her apartment building, taking in the unique smell of the city in the rain as she did so. After scanning her metrocard at the gate, she anxiously checked the time on her phone as she boarded the southbound train. _Of all the damn days to be running late! _she mentally scolded. Taking her seat, and having nothing better to do, she rummaged around in her bag making sure she actually grabbed everything she needed—not that she had the luxury of going back to retrieve something in the event she had forgotten anything. Still, she need to do something to quell her nerves; today was going to be one of the most important meetings of her life.

Pulling out her tablet, she flicked through documents until she found one entitled "dissertation notes: interview" and started going over the questions she had written, tablet stylus balanced between her teeth.

* * *

**Two Weeks Earlier**

"I dunno Dr. Hill, I feel like I've hit a roadblock. There's not enough variation in the syntax and vocabulary of the sources for a serious argument," Caroline sighed, throwing her arms up in the air. "I have miles of spreadsheets comparing it—concordats stacked all over my apartment. I've totally screwed myself over. My whole argument hinges on variation in the Ragnarok mythos."

Dr. Hill was head of the Swedish Language program in Columbia University's Department of Germanic Languages, and Caroline's dissertation advisor. A middle-aged woman with silver hair and delicate features, Dr. Hill had made her mark on academia twenty years ago by proposing a new argument for the importance of blood-oath and blood-rite in the ancient Norse religion. Her office was packed to the gills with books, and the smallish window looked out over the narrow park that ran between the edge of Manhattan and the Hudson River.

"Too bad I can't just sacrifice a freshman for an interview with Odin," Caroline joked; but really, some of the freshman in the early civilization course she for were prime candidates for human sacrifice. Snotty little devils.

Dr. Hill gave her a look somewhere between amusement and disapproval. "You could change your focus slightly, instead of looking solely on apocalyptic literature, widen your sights to any battle sequences found in the sources. It would put you back at least a year, though."

Caroline slumped down further in her chair. Ph.D. programs could take anywhere from five to ten years and she was desperately trying to keep her own track within the seven year mark. When drafting her prospectus, she had been so sure the National Library of Sweden would have the right documents for her—manuscripts that hadn't been translated or published yet that would unlock the key to her research. Unfortunately, two trips to Sweden and an empty bank account later, Caroline realized she had been sorely mistaken.

Dr. Hill leaned forward, hand's folded in front of her. "Don't panic, Caroline. Listen, I've done some consulting work for this agency, mainly translation stuff. I'll call my contacts and see what they can do."

Caroline knit her brows in confusion. "No offense, Dr. Hill, but how is that going to help me? Are they sitting on a stash of ancient Norse manuscripts or something?"

"Something like that. Or at least, that's what I hear."

* * *

**Present Day**

The subway train lurched to a stop, and Caroline pushed her way through the crowd of people to the surface. Midtown was abuzz with activity, even considering the present weather. Though the tourist beacon of light that was Time Square was only a few block away, boring grey office buildings lined the streets around her. Double checking the address displayed on her phone, Caroline made a b-line for the nondescript building on the corner of the street.

The lobby space was minimalist in design, with large airy windows and sleek white furniture. She approached the security desk, next to which was a metal detector and bag scanner. Caroline felt like she was at an airport.

"Name and purpose?" the bored sounding security officer asked, not looking up from her computer screen.

Caroline handed over her passport, opened to the page with her information.

"Caroline Elizabeth Woods. I have an interview with…let me see," she quickly rifled through her bag, looking for the note Dr. Hill had sent her with the contact information. "a Mr. Coulson. Um, Phil Coulson."

The security officer stopped her typing and looked up at Caroline, surprise on her face. "If you want to take a seat over their ma'am," she said, indicating a cluster of white couches and chairs, and handed the passport back.

Caroline nodded, and made her way over. She hopped Mr. Coulson hadn't decided to cancel their interview, given that she was late. Nervously, she sat and fiddled with a damp lock of dark hair.

* * *

**One Week Earlier**

Caroline was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her kitchen-living room, various stacks of papers spread out around her. Next to her knee was a half-eaten carton of Oreos and a glass of milk. She was typing furiously away at her tablet keyboard when the knock at the door came. Disembarking from her fortress of journal articles, manuscript transcriptions, and notes, Caroline checked the peephole on her door before unlocking the deadbolt and opening it.

"Are you Ms. Woods?" The mail courier asked.

She nodded, and signed the slip he handed her. "A little late for deliveries, isn't it?"

"Rush delivery, ma'am," the man said, before handing her a white sealed envelope with a stylized eagle stamped on the front in black ink. "Have a goodnight!"

"You too," Caroline called absently, as she studied the package in her hand.

Closing the door, she tore open the envelope on her way to the kitchen table, her research momentarily forgotten. She took out the contents of the package one at a time and laid them on the table. There was a handwritten note which she recognized was from Dr. Hill. A slick black folder about an inch thick, about half a dozen confidentiality agreements, and another note, this one typed on white stationary with the same eagle insignia stamped in the corner and signed "N.F.". Caroline started with the note from Dr. Hill.

"_Caroline,_

_I spoke with some associates and got you an interview with Phil Coulson of SHIELD at 3pm on Tuesday next. These are the people who have connections to the individual the media are referring to as 'Thor'. I hope this helps._

_-Dr. Hill"_

Caroline raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Though she had been in Stockholm when the city was attacked a year ago, she was very familiar with the Avengers, especially the one calling himself Thor. It was nearly impossible not to be, considering she and half of her colleagues worked on some aspect of Norse mythology or another. A rush of excitement ran through her. Thor. Did her advisor get her an honest to god meeting with Thor? That would be amazing for her research. Surely no other scholar would have had the opportunity. She knew most of the department faculty didn't believe the red-cape wearing superhero really was the ancient Norse god of thunder, not publicly at least, but it seemed the students were more open to the idea. The students and, apparently, Dr. Hill—she wouldn't get Caroline this interview if she didn't think the information would be usable. Still, she'd have to treat any information gleaned from the interview carefully, but it would still be more than worth it.

Caroline turned her attention to the other letter, her hand still trembling with excitement.

_"Ms. Woods;_

_This letter is to provide you with the necessary information for your interviews. As Dr. Hill is greatly respected in this establishment, we are willing to grant you five sessions, each an hour in length, with the prisoner. Come to the address listed below half an hour before your appointment. Bring your passport and the contents of this envelope._

_-N.F._

_P.S: You may ask as many questions of him as you'd like, but I can't guarantee he'll answer you. Good luck."_

Caroline frowned.

"Prisoner? What the hell does that mean?" She asked out loud to the mostly empty apartment.

An inquisitive meow answered her back as she felt soft fur brush up against her leg. Caroline reached down and scratched her black kitty's ears.

"Yeah, I dunno either, buddy."

She shifted her attention to the black folder. Paper-clipped to the inner corner was a black and white picture of a glowering dark-haired man. Just looking at his sharp face made Caroline nervous. That certainly wasn't Thor. Opposite was a thick personnel file, much of the contents obscured by black marker. Picking up Captain Mittens and settling him on her lap, she began to read out loud.

"Loki Laufeyson, alias Odinson, alias Silvertongue, alias Lie-Smith, alias God of Mischief and Lies, alias the Trickster. Damn, Mittens, what have we gotten ourselves into?" she asked, petting the top of his head.

Mittens flicked his tongue over his nose and blinked at her.

Caroline closed the file and set it back down on the table for the moment. She knew enough about Loki from mythology. Out of all the gods in the Norse pantheon, Loki was probably the best she could hope for in terms of insights to the Ragnarok; he was meant to start it, after all. But the thought of being in the same room as him made her stomach tie itself in knots. He had tried to take over the world, for god's sake. She wondered how much she would be able to trust his account, given his reputation for trickery and lies.

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. This all sounded completely insane—her advisor had set up an interview for her with the Norse god of mischief, through some shady government agency. This was not happening. Still, she had reconciled her disbelief in Norse gods when she had seen Thor whooshing over the New York City skyline a year ago. She just never thought she'd have the opportunity to meet one.

Shaking her head, Caroline turned her attention to the confidentiality agreements. Scanning through them, it seemed about half were concerned with what she might see inside the facility where the interview would take place, and the other half were over how she could use the answers she received. Annoyance flicked through her when she saw her finished dissertation was to be subject to SHIELD's approval. She hoped they didn't seriously think they could make her change what she wrote—a dissertation took years of careful research, writing, and editing. There was no way a bunch of government bureaucrats could have the understanding to censor her nuanced arguments.

_But the only way you'll get your dissertation written is to sign these forms, _she reasoned with herself. It was true; better to make a deal with the devil she knew, and all that.

* * *

**Present Day**

"Ms. Woods?"

Caroline snapped out of her daze and hurried to her feet at the security guard's call. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Place your personal belongings on the conveyor belt and step through the metal detector. Someone will be here in minute to escort you."

Caroline nodded and did as she was told, though she couldn't stop the slight trepidation from coiling in her stomach at the thought of letting someone rifle through her satchel. After walking through the metal detector, she stood awkwardly to the side as another guard flipped through her bag. He took her tablet out and turned it on, flicking through the screens one by one. Next he examined her phone in the same way, jingled the keys on her keychain, and thumbed through the billfold of her wallet. Caroline's stomach clenched when he reached the black folder with Loki's file in it. She was sure one of the confidentiality wavers had specifically said not to show or relinquish it to anyone. She bit her lip, unsure if she should, or rather, could say anything. She was spared the decision when a middle-aged man in a sharp suit and glasses put his hand on the guard's wrist.

"I'll take it from here, Ricky. If you could please give Ms. Woods her things back?" He turned to Caroline and held out his hand, "Caroline Woods? I'm Phil Coulson, pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she said, shaking his hand before grabbing her bag back.

"Walk with me," Coulson said, taking off down the hallway.

Caroline dutifully followed him to a bank of elevators, where he slid an ID card into a scanner on the wall and punched the down button. The silver doors dinged open, and Coulson motioned for her to step in. Once they were inside, he pressed his thumb against a blue touch screen, and then keyed in something on the pad. The elevator whooshed down.

"I just want to say, I really appreciate…all of this." Caroline said, trying to fill the silence.

"Not at all. Dr. Hill was an invaluable help to us, a while back." He paused, and pulled something out of his breast pocket. "You have four more interviews after today, so you'll need this to get through the front door. My assistant will be waiting at the elevators for you next time, to escort you down."

He handed Caroline a thin plastic card, with what looked like her university ID photo on it. Underneath, was the stylize SHIELD eagle and the words "special privileges" in big red letters. Her rounded face and honey colored eyes smiled back at her, and she wondered how on earth they had access to her school file.

"Thanks," she murmured, putting the badge into her wallet. "Oh, I've got the confidentiality wavers for you, somewhere…ha!"

She pulled a stack of papers out from her bag and handed them to him. Coulson flicked through the bottom of each page, checking for her signature. "Thank you."

The elevator doors suddenly slid open revealing a long white hallway. Coulson motioned for her to follow as he set off to the left. They passed through a series of doors for which he had to scan various parts of his body to unlock. Finally, they reached a small white room with two doors. Another guard, this time in a black jumpsuit, approached.

"Unfortunately, we're going to have to search you and your belongings again. You read over the list of items allowed in the interview space, correct?" Coulson asked.

Caroline nodded, as she surrendered her bag and held out her arms for a pat down. Though it was mildly embarrassing, she focused on the fact that on the other side of those doors waited a person who could answer all her questions. Once they were done with inspections, Coulson handed her the bag back.

"Remember, you can record sounds, but no videos."

She nodded again and waited for the far door to be unlocked. Once it was, she took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold.

The room itself was white, like everything else, apparently, in the building. A glass wall intersected the middle of the room, separating the guard sitting at the corner desk, from what appeared to be a one roomed apartment of sorts. There was a small desk and chair set up in the middle of the room for her, to which she quickly moved to and set her bag down before draping her raincoat over the back of the chair. All the while, she kept her eyes trained on the room beyond the glass. There was a bed with a rumpled green quilt pressed into the far corner, a small bookshelf serving as a nightstand. A desk, table, and chair populated the front two corners, and the back right was screened off, probably a bathroom of sorts. In the center of the room, his back turned to her, stood a man.

Raven black hair tumbled down past his board shoulders, and his pale forearms seemed carved from marble as he held his hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in what appeared to be a green long-sleeved tee-shirt with the sleeves haphazardly pushed up past his elbows and black cotton trousers. His feet were bare. Though his clothes were somewhat baggy, she could tell his muscles were tensed throughout his long body.

Caroline glanced at the guard, whose face remained impassive. Tentatively, she sat down and pulled out her tablet and keyboard. Once she had her things in order, she glanced at the small microphone on her desk and flicked it on.

"Good Afternoon, my name is Caroline Woods. I'm a Ph.D. candidate at Columbia University's Department of Germanic Languages and I'd like to ask you a few questions," she could hear her muffled voice reverberating beyond the glass, but the man didn't turn around. "A large part of my dissertation concerns variations in the Ragnarok mythos. Are you familiar with the Ragnarok prophesy?"

Silence met her question, and after it was apparent he wasn't going to answer, Caroline tried again. "Are you familiar with any apocalyptic prophesies from your world?"

More silence.

"Could you please tell me the name of the place you come from, and where it is in relation to the Earth?"

After a long pause, she tentatively ventured: "Mr. Laufeyson?"

If at all possible, his body became even more rigid at her words. Slowly, like a predator who knew his pray was cornered, he turned around. Despite the fact that she had seen pictures, Caroline was taken aback at how handsome he was. High cheekbones framed his angular face and his red lips were twisted in something between a snarl and a smirk. She tried not to look at his eyes as some deeply buried primal instinct was screaming at her not to look—he would eat her all up like the big bad wolf of her childhood nightmares if she did. Still, her gaze was drawn upward, despite her screaming instincts. Emerald eyes, framed by a thick curtain of black lashes met her own honey colored gaze, before he let them trail over her, sizing her up, deciding which part would be the juiciest to eat first.

With movements faster than she could see, he was suddenly at the forefront of his room, fist slammed against the glass. "Do NOT call me that."

She jumped, her back slamming against the back of her chair as adrenaline coursed through her body. Her hands gripped the sides of the desk in a deathlike vise. The guard behind her was on his feet in an instant, some sort of weapon drawn. Caroline's eyes widened, and it took her a moment to realize Loki had yelled at her in Old Norse.

"Step away from the glass!" The guard ordered.

Loki held his hands up before him, and took a step back, his eyes still trained on the woman in front of him.

She held out her hand to the guard hoping to defuse the situation, "it's okay. I'm okay. Please."

"Are you sure, miss?" the guard sounded skeptical.

Taking a deep breath, she swiveled around in her seat and smiled, "Promise. I've lived in some pretty rough neighborhoods. At little yelling isn't going to scare me."

He gave her a hard look before sitting back at his desk in the corner. Caroline turned back around.

"What should I call you?" She asked in Old Norse, making sure to use the formal, polite version of "you".

Loki raised a charcoal eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, his lips relaxing into a smirk.

"You lied to him," he countered, still speaking the ancient dialect.

This was good; he was actually speaking to her, though not necessarily responding to her questions. Caroline decided to press her advantage.

"Are you aware of the Ragnarok prophesy?" She asked, returning to her first question.

"I can taste them, lies that is. Yours taste like…"Loki, closing his eyes, tilted his head up, his tongue flicking out between his lips for the briefest of moments. "Honeyed apricots."

_Jesus H. Christ_, she thought. Why did that sounds so...unseemly? This guy certainly knew how to distract people. Caroline cleared her throat and flicked her stylus on the screen to scroll down. Professionalism was important; not letting him know his words bothered her was even more important.

"Have you ever encountered an individual named Hodor?" she asked, deciding to take a new direction on the questioning.

He was pacing back and forth now, taking decidedly exaggerated turns when he reached a wall, his hand still clasped behind his back. If she didn't know better, Caroline would say he was having fun. Like a cat playing with a mouse before he ate it.

But she supposed that made sense, to a degree; it wasn't like he got many of visitors. He stopped again, when he reached the middle and eyed her up again.

"You, little apricot, can call me Loki," he gave an exaggerated bow, even clicking his heels together.

Caroline blinked. _Did he really just call me apricot?_ She ran through all his words, trying to find alternate translations, but failing. Determined not to be unnerved by him, she returned to her mission.

"Have you ever met Hodor?" She asked again.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. "What the fuck is a Hodor?"

Behind her she heard the crackle of the guard's walkie-talkie. "Alright, Miss, time's up for this week."

Caroline stared at Loki for a moment longer, trying to read his demeanor. One moment it was menacing, the next, playful. She couldn't figure out what was going on in his mind, and it bothered her.

"Miss Woods?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you," she murmured, standing and putting her things back in her bag.

She made her way to the door, feeling awkward and uncoordinated under Loki's stare. The metal barrier slid open, but before Caroline when through, she turned around and nodded to the man behind the glass wall.

"Thank you."

He didn't respond, though his eyes followed her out the door and into the room beyond, before she disappeared as the metal barrier slid back in place.

As she sat on the subway on her way home, Caroline realized her hands were shaking. _Holy shit. I've just met a Norse God. I've just met Loki._ Not that anyone would believe her; not that she could _tell_ anyone. She took a deep breath. Suddenly her obscure life and taken a turn for the surreal.


	2. Sweet Caroline

**Chapter Two: Sweet Caroline**

Caroline let her fingers float over the book spines as she meandered through the cramped aisles her favorite secondhand book store. Whenever she needed to get out of her apartment, to think, or rather, not to think anymore, this was her go to place. (Well, this or the ice-cream shop down the corner, but today her stress had screamed "books", not "ice-cream"). It was really just a hole in the wall, with shelves stacked to the ceiling, two and three rows deep with books, precariously leaning. Light trickled in from the front windows, beams from the afternoon sun and dust motes danced with the smell of old books the air. She paused in front of the classical mythology shelf and thumbed through copies of Ovid, Homer, and Virgil.

It was two days before her third interview with Loki, and it seemed things were not going to go as hoped. The previous session had been just about as helpful as the first. Well, excepting the fact she managed not to provoke him into a rage again. Her questions had been met with silence, riddles, and more questions, and though some of it was marginally useful, overall it was a great waste of time. She needed to find a way to convince him to talk to her—to really talk to her, not just play with her to relieve his boredom.

That's why she was in the bookshop.

Caroline had taken note of the small collection of books stacked on his half-bookshelf the first time she walked into that too white room. She had also noticed, upon further inspection, that all of them were dog-eared, with cracked spines and worn covers. Loki had probably read those books forwards and backwards ten times over. She wasn't really sure what she was looking for, exactly, but she had a nice little stack going. Her plan was to give them to him over the last three interviews, as an incentive to speak with her. She hadn't quite worked out how she'd get SHIELD's approval, but that was a problem for another time.

Pulling a golden covered copy of the _Odyssey_ off of the shelf, she placed it in her basket.

Instead of her usual leather satchel, Caroline had dug out her old undergraduate backpack from the recesses of her closet. It was an ugly black behemoth of a bag, twice as thick as she was and larger than her whole back. Still, it had done the job when she was lugging around three to five obnoxiously thick textbooks, notebooks, and a planner per day. _Gosh, grad school is so much better for my back than undergad_, Caroline thought upon finally finding it. Today it finally got to see the sun after years of neglect; it was the only way she could fit the books she planned on bringing to the interview.

* * *

She rocked back and forth on her heels as she stood in the antechamber outside of Loki's holding cell, the guard was pawing through her bag. She hated this part of the process more than being the mouse to Loki's bored cat. She'd always had a possessive streak when it came to her bags. It probably sprang from her brother sneaking frogs into her backpacks when she was in middle school. Honestly, teenaged boys were the most insufferable little shits on the planet.

"What are all these books for?" The agent asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"I was at the shop before I came here." Caroline shrugged, the almost truths flowing off of her tongue "…I like books."

She saw the guards exchange looks before waving her in. Aware of the gazes trained on her as she did so, she walked across the white room to her desk. Without sitting down, she pulled out her tablet and keyboard and situated them before her, as had become her ritual. Instead of flicking the microphone on, however, she reached down and pulled out two thick volumes: the _Odyssey_, and _The Shadow of the Wind_.

Sealing her nerves, she slowly looked up. Loki was watching her closely, his interest obviously piqued by the change of pace.

"What are those for?" the guard behind her barked.

Caroline turned and smiled at him. "I read my copies of the confidentiality waivers; there was nothing in them about bringing books for the prisoner."

"You can't give him those."

She sighed mentally. Of course he was going to say that. Could they please skip the unnecessary banter and get to the part where she talked him into giving her her way?

"Why ever not?"

"They're not authorized," he finally sputtered, clearly knowing it was, on principle, not allowed but unable to come up with a real reason why.

Caroline softened her smile, "come on, they're just books. No harm ever came from reading a book." She picked up top one and handed it to him, "here, look through them. I promise there's nothing to worry about."

A look of mistrust on his face, the guard flipped through the first book's pages, and then the other one. Before he was satisfied, he held each one by the covers and shook them upside down. Caroline had to bite her tongue from yelling at him; that was no way to handle a book.

"Fine. But if you're planning on pulling this next time, you'll need Agent Coulson's approval."

Caroline nodded, and held her hand out, willing him to give her the book back. Once he did, he held it to her chest like an infant; she had to resist the urge to stroke the cover. Surely they would think her mad if she did so.

Picking up the other one, she walked to the front of the glass wall. Caroline had noticed the little exchange box off to the side the last time she was here; if she had to guess, she would say it was normally used for taking food in and out. Gently, she set the books down on her side of the glass and pressed a button. A small carousel inside the chamber rotated, and a green light flashed. She went back to her seat and flicked the microphone on.

"Good afternoon," she murmured, anticipation coiling in her stomach; she wanted to see what he thought of her peace-offering.

Loki remained motionless, though she could have sworn he was eyeing up the books moments before.

"I was hoping I could ask you some more questions," she started in English.

More silence. Caroline's heart plummeted. She had been so sure this would have worked, but he seemed just as disinterested in her gift as he was in her questions. Taking a deep breath and trying not to show her disappointment, she flicked through her tablet, looking for more questions to ask.

"Can you tell me about the other realms? Specifically the ones that are going to play a role in the Ragnarok, as you know it?"

Loki stood in the middle of his room, perhaps a foot away from the glass wall. His hands were clasped behind his back in what seemed to be his usual manner. Besides blinking and breathing, he didn't move. She wondered if she should try speaking to him in Old Norse again. He hadn't been more or less responsive to either the last time, but English was getting her nowhere. Still, it was truly a test of her language abilities to carry out a conversation in a dead language she knew primarily for reading. She decided to stick with English, at least for the next few questions.

"Okay," Caroline gave a tight-lipped smile, trying hard to not let the frustration simmering just below the surface to bubble up. "Can you tell me about Asgard?"

A few slow blinks of his long eyelashes and silence.

What about Alfheimr?"

Perhaps his gaze shifted from her face for a brief second, but otherwise nothing.

"Can you tell me about Valhalla?"

Silence stretched through the room. Caroline drummed her fingers on the desk, trying to let her annoyance out in a way that wouldn't be destructive to the entire arrangement—like yelling at him. She was about to give up and go on to the next question when he spoke.

"I cannot; I've never been there."

She looked up, surprise coloring her face. Did he actually just answer one of her questions straight?

"I haven't died, yet, you see," Loki continued.

Caroline thought she saw amusement in his bright green eyes at her shocked expression. Clearing her throat, she recorded his answer.

"What realms have you been to?"

Loki tilted his head to the side, considering, though whether he was thinking about the answer or whether he wanted to answer, she couldn't say.

"Asgard, of course. Jotunheim, Vanaheim," he paused, looking around at their surroundings with distaste. "Midgard."

Caroline tried to decide which one to ask about. She didn't particularly want information on Midgard at the moment, and she had already asked about Asgard, only to be met with silence. Somehow she thought asking about Jotunheim would have the opposite affect she was going for. That left her with one option.

"Your wife is from Vanaheim, correct?" She asked.

Laughter filled the room, deep and hearty. "I'm not married, little apricot. Wherever did you get such an idea?"

Caroline felt her cheeks go red, as she struggled to not to show how much she hated being mocked.

"The _Prose Edda_ and _Poetic Edda_ both attest to Sigyn as your wife," she snapped, looking away from her tablet screen to meet his bright eyes.

His laughter had died down, but his lips were still twisted in an amused smirk. "Norns no. Vanaheim was subjugated millennia ago by the Allfather, anyway. They're hardly a political rival."

His words were just as interesting as what they implied; a subjugated world was no place to find a wife, apparently. Her keyboard clattered as her mind raced. She wasn't sure how much of it would be relevant, but it certainly was interesting.

"I'm assuming then, that if you're not married, you don't have children," she said in a clipped tone.

He raised an eyebrow, "children? Me? Absolutely not."

Caroline couldn't tell if he was teasing her again, but she decided to take him at his word. He opened her mouth to ask more questions—who were these people, if not his family, as myth told her—but Loki held up a hand.

"Let me explain something before you continue. The myths you have _are_ about me, about the people who once I called family and friends. But they're also not. The Ragnarok is the end of the universe, yes, but it's also the beginning. Maybe there was a Loki who was married to Sigyn, maybe not. I am not he. It is a cycle that repeats ad nauseam ad infinitum, true, but not always in the same way."

Caroline's heart sank. "Are you saying this is pointless?"

"I'm saying you're asking the wrong questions."

* * *

Caroline had a cork-board of index cards hung above her desk. Usually she used them to rearrange the organization of her papers or ideas. Tonight, she was staring at the cluttered mess that was her dissertation. She took a bite of her turkey sandwich, hoping it would stop the growing frustration mounting in her brain. Three hours of precious interview time wasted. Three hours she was never going to get back; she only had two more, and now she need think of an entirely new battery of questions by next week.

She slumped down on the foot of her bed, disturbing Captain Mittens in the process. He gave her his best grumpy cat glare, and then continued with his nap.

She supposed she could always start on the mountain of mid-term exams she had to grade, though she tried not to grade freshmen when she was in a bad mood. A bad mood meant she was less forgiving when it came to stupid mistakes and almost-but-not-quite-right answers.

"Maybe I can ask him about Asgardian history and mythology," she mused out loud.

Rolling over on her back, Caroline blew a gentle stream of air in the cat's general direction. "Do you think gods have their own religion, Mittens?"

Mittens didn't deign to reply.

A sudden knock on her apartment door caused Caroline to sit up. Glancing at the clock, she shuffled over to the hallway. Who the hell would want to talk to her at 9pm on a Tuesday night?

"Caroline! Open up, you hermit!"

A grin appeared on her face. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Swinging the door open, she was greeted with a bone crushing hug that made her stumble backwards.

"Ooph. Cat! What are you doing here?"

"We're all going out for Mitchell's birthday. I haven't seen you in forever. Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Caroline hesitated for a fraction of a second. She did have a lot of work to do, but for fuck's sake, it wasn't actually getting done. Maybe copious amounts of alcohol would help. That's what the Vikings would do, right?

Cat was practically bouncing in the hallway, blondish-brown hair threatening to fall out of her loose ponytail.

"Okay, give me a minute to make myself look human."

* * *

Loki sat on the bed that was his to use, one of Caroline's books open before him. The lights were dimmed, though they were never truly off, and the night guard sat mindless staring at the small magical box on his desk.

Loki hadn't wanted the little human to think he actually appreciated her tribute, but by the Nine Realms if it didn't feel good to have something new to read. And though some the gods of this book seemed both laughably strange and strangely similar, he was enjoy reading about the mortal would could talk his way in or out of anything.

The lights flickered briefly, overhead. Loki paused from his readings and looked up. The guard hadn't noticed, of course. Humans never noticed things. He glanced down at the new books on the bed; well, perhaps some mortals noticed things. But Caroline certainly wasn't the average human—gifted with languages and surprisingly perceptive, Loki had only met a few like her before. Unfortunately, their time together would soon be at an end. Which was a shame; certainly her visits broke up the monotony of being in this infernal cage. Still, he was sure he could devise some new torment for the guards—he hadn't driven one mad in ages, if he recalled correctly—though it was difficult for him to keep track of time in any way that was meaningful to mortals.

Why Thor ever thought being stuck here would be _less_ of a punishment for him than being back in Asgard, Loki would never know. Odin might have killed him, but he thought not. At least in Asgard, he wouldn't be burdened with such primitive surroundings and stupid companions.

_And maybe you'd get to see Frigga again_, his ever so small conscious whispered.

Loki shook his head and returned to the book in his hands. _A man of twists and turns, indeed. _

The lights flickered again, and even the human in the corner noticed. Loki stood, his bare feet making not a sound as he crossed to the center of the room. A sharp prickling touched the base of his skull and Loki jerked backwards.

"What's the problem with you, then?" The guard called, the lights apparently forgotten.

He wanted to cry out, to scream and tell them to get someone competent. But he couldn't. Pressure in the back of his head was mounting, white hot and throbbing. This could only mean one thing. He pressed his hands to his temples desperately trying to block it out. His magic had languished in disuse for a year, but sprang to his summons the moment he touched it.

All too late. A keening scream echoed throughout the room, and it took him a moment to realize it was him.

The lights flickered again. And again. Then darkness.

The guard's screams joined Loki's.

* * *

Caroline laughed at something Mitch shouted across their table before taking another drink of her gin and tonic. Cat looped her arm around Caroline's shoulder.

"Aren't you glad you came out?"

"Of course! Urgh. I'm just stuck on my writing…I can't…get it to wor—"

Cat smacked her hand over Caroline' mouth, "Nope! None of that, missy. We're here to gossip about booze and drink freshmen…or wait…"

She pushed Cat's hand off of her mouth and lurched forward, capturing her friend in a hug.

"You're my favorite, Catsby," she slurred.

In the background, Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" started up.

"Oh no," Caroline sat straight up, eyes wide. She _hated_ when this damn song came on. It was pretty, sure, but the inevitable "Oh my god! Your name is Caroline! This song is _about you!_" was only exciting the first five hundred times she'd heard it.

"I gotta pee," she murmured, trying to make a dash for the bathroom.

"Oh no you don't SWEET CAROLINE BAH BAH BAAAAH!" Mitch half yelled, half sang, grabbing hold of her hand and spinning her towards him.

Caught in his drunk person dance of swiveling their bodies while punching their entwined arms back and forth, Caroline sighed and decided to enjoy herself. The entire bar soon joined in, though few could see their antics at the back of the long room. Nothing seemed to unite a bunch of drunken people as well as a much loved song.

* * *

_You thought he wouldn't find you. You thought you were safe in your glass cage. _

The words slithered through his throbbing head, the only point of clarity in a haze of pain. The darkness was absolute. Loki sat, hunched against the wall, one pressed to his aching temple, the other held out, a weak shield of magic between him and _them._

The guard was most certainly dead.

_You failed, Trickster. He is coming for his payment. _

No.

Loki couldn't speak though the pain, but the denial, the obstinacy, echoed through his very being.

The room began to glow an unearthly, otherworldly blue. A blue that promised you all of your heart's desires; a blue that could make all of your dreams come true. All you had to do was submit.

They were in the room. He could feel them, though they clung to the shadows. Their chittering echoed through his mind, squeezing through his consciousness to block his magic. His shield faltered for a moment before he slammed it back up in defiance.

** Give up, Lie-Smith**

Chills ran down his spine as the new, deeper voice entered the room. He would know that voice in any recess of the university.

Thanos.

A flash of light and his green shield was torn to shreds, the magic dissipating in the thick air. Loki took a deep breath. He couldn't let himself be taken. The word pain did not begin to cover what would happen to him. There was only one thing he could think to do, though there was no guarantee it would work. Chances were it would kill him instantly. Either way, he would better off than if he went with them.

As they fell on him in one giant surge of violence, a wave to drag him to hell, Loki gathered his magic about him. When their _alien_ hands clawed at him, dragging his body away from the room that had been his to use, he pulled.

His magic came free, his mind came free, leaving his body behind, a limp shell for the dogs to fight over. It took every ounce of his being to keep himself together. Tendrils of magic, of consciousness, of him, wanted to drift and flow. As coherent thought began to fade, he fixed an image before him. He needed to be bound, anchored.

Across the night sky, the magical, uniting strains of chant pulled him.

_Sweet Caroline._

* * *

Caroline collapsed in her bed, her limbs still heavy with the singing of alcohol. The rational, adult part of her mind was telling her to get up and wash her face, or else she'd look like a raccoon in the morning. Instead she buried her head into the pillows, and let sleep claim her.

As she fell into the warm arms of sleep, there was a gentle brush against her consciousness. Had she been sober, she might have felt it.

Caroline sat up, frantically searching for her phone. The morning sunlight streaming in through her windows.

_Shit shit shit! Am I late? Urgh what time is it? _

She tore the pillows off of her bed and ripped the blankets back. Finally, the familiar white gleam caught her eyes. The adrenaline coursing through her system quieted down, leaving her with a vaguely nauseous feeling when she saw it was only ten in the morning. She was behind her usual schedule, but nowhere near late.

Skipping the shower, Caroline finished her morning routine and headed towards her gym down the street. She worked out for an hour every weekday, and today was no different. It wasn't until she was halfway through her run on the treadmill that she realized she didn't feel even a bit hung-over. Her head didn't hurt, and she didn't feel shaky or sick. Shaking her head, she continued running. Maybe she had finally found the secret ratio of water to alcohol, though she couldn't really recall drinking that much water the night before. Well, it wasn't really worth thinking over, she decided. Better to be happy she wasn't sick.

The treadmill went into the cool down phase and Caroline checked her stats. Her eyes widened. Instead of her usual 5-6 mile run, she had managed to run 9 miles. She had never run that fast before. Doing the math in her head, it came out to almost a 6 minute mile. That was insanity. Sure she was in shape, but she wasn't _that_ in shape. Working out was a way for her combat her love of junk food and habit of snaking throughout the day instead of sitting down to real meals.

She took a large gulp of water. She didn't feel any more tired than usual.

Caroline sighed and headed for the showers. Perhaps the machine was just broken.

Caroline's Western History I course met every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 1:40 in the afternoon. In theory Caroline didn't mind T. —she wanted to teach, eventually anyway. But it was an awkward situation to be the professor while not actually being the professor. A lot of the students were only a few years younger than her, and in some cases, a few were much older. She didn't have her Ph.D. yet either, so, she could tell, some students felt as if her lectures weren't as important or well done as Dr. Hill's. In short, some days were good days, and some days she just wanted to set everything on fire.

Today was shaping up to be like the latter.

Caroline had not been five minutes into her lecture when she heard the distracting whispers of a side conversation. She paused her explanation of the dynastic factors behind the Norman Conquest, and scanned the classroom. Everyone looked more or less attentive, so she continued.

"As you can see, it was Queen Emma's Norman connection that facilitated Duke William's dynastic claim over that of the Witenagemot's choice of Harold Godwinson, who, if the Bayeux Tapestry can be believed, previously swore fealty to William anyway."

_Click click click_

Caroline couldn't tell if that was just the clatter of students taking notes on their computers or if someone was texting. Dr. Hill, and by extension Caroline, had a strict no cell phone policy. She'd thrown students out of class before, and she was willing to do it again, but as she looked out over the bent heads and scribbling hand, she couldn't see anyone obviously using a phone.

She switched the slide. "Now, the Battle of Stamford Bridge…"

The entire lecture was like that; it sounded like there were at least three conversations going on in the classroom, but every time she stopped to investigate, or even looked at her students as she spoke, she could see no one talking. By the end of the hour, Caroline felt like she was going crazy. And from the look on her students' faces, they thought she was going crazy too.

The clock struck 2:40 and Caroline rushed out of the room before anyone could approach her. As she passed the classroom down the hallway, she saw a group of grad students broken into groups, discussing among themselves. She caught a phrase or so of conversation. Caroline paused. It sounded like the whispers she had been hearing in her classroom. But that was impossible—they were nearly 40 feet down the hall and removed by heavy cinderblock walls. She shook her head and continued on her way, before her students could catch up with her.

Technically she had office hours after this class, but if she kept the door shut and her lights off, no one ever bothered her. Mitch, with whom she shared the office, was never in on Wednesday afternoons anyway.

She slumped down in her chair and gazed out the window. The campus spread out around her, and the city beyond that. She could see there was a departmental meeting going on the building across the lawn; professors were waving their arms around and yelling. Not a good departmental meeting, then. She sighed and tilted her head back and the tiled ceiling stared back at her.

What the actually fuck was going on with her today? She had woken up from a night of heavy drinking without so much as an achy head. She had run unbelievable fast during her work out. She could hear conversations halfway down the hall, or if not, she was hearing things that weren't there.

Was this some sort of weirdly lucid dream? Was she going to wake up in her bed, go throw up from last night, and have her day all over again but completely normal?

Caroline pinched herself. The sharp pain and red mark on her skin told her she wasn't dreaming. Maybe she should pop down to the medical college and have them scan her brain. Or maybe the psychology department—it could just be stress.

_Or maybe you've lost your mind. I've certainly lost my body_.

Caroline sat straight up, eyes wide. Had she really just head that? Frantically she scanned the room. There was no one in the little office, besides herself, obviously. Cautiously, she stuck her head outside the door and scanned the hallway.

No one.

If she hadn't known better, she would say that voice sounded familiar. Elegant and mocking, with just a hint of a snarl. But that was impossible. He was locked up in a fortified glass cage miles below Midtown.

_I assure you, I am not_.

Caroline screamed and slammed her office door, as if that barrier would really keep the voice out of her head. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream before she could manage to relax her throat enough to do so in reality. She didn't need half the department crowded in her office to see if she'd been murdered.

"Loki?" She called out to the air, feeling foolish, but also hoping there wouldn't be a reply.

_Who else, little apricot_?

Caroline swerved around, looking frantically for an alternate explanation. As she did so, her eye caught a framed poster of Mitch's. The light was hitting the Plexiglas surface in just the right way to make it a mirror. She could see her own face, honey eyes wide and mouth slightly open, sure. But next to hers, was another face. Angular and handsome with bright green eyes, Loki stared back at her.

The room tilted at an alarming angle and the hard linoleum floor rushed towards her face.

_Oh dear. Are you dead?_ Loki's bored voice drawled through the last moments of Caroline's consciousness.

* * *

**I would like to sincerely thank Azura Soul Reaver for reviewing the previous chapter. It's always a lovely feeling to have someone say they liked the very first part of a new story. I'd also like to thank everyone who added this story or me to their alerts or favorite lists!**

**Comments, Questions, or Constructive Criticisms? Please Review or PM**


	3. Detente

_Chapter Three: Detente_

Mitch pressed an icepack to Caroline's temple, concern written in his almond shaped eyes.

"You're lucky I left my notes in here! Who knows how long you would have been lying on the ground with a gash in your head. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

Caroline brushed his hand away to hold the ice herself. She could feel the butterfly bandage on her forehead, where he had patched up where she had smashed her head on the desk.

"I'm fine, Mitch, I promise."

_Those lies, little apricot…_

Caroline's eyes darted around the room before glancing at Mitch. Could he hear that? Surely, he had heard that. But Mitch was learning against the corner of her desk, watching her with worry. If he noticed her nervous disposition, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off…"

_Maybe you should take the rest of the day off_, Loki mocked in a high pitched voice that was more to prove his malice than actually imitate.

Caroline gave him a pained smile, trying to ignore the voice in her head.

"That's probably a good idea. Today has been...weird."

She stood and the room swam precariously. Mitch put his hand out to steady her, but Caroline waved him away again.

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

_Do you want me to walk you home,_ Loki's mocking voice rang out in her head again.

"Knock it off!" She snapped.

Mitch stared at her, mouth hanging open. It wasn't like her to be rude. Caroline blushed, embarrassed at her outburst and even more embarrassed that he thought she was talking to him. Frantically she gathered her bag.

"I'm sorry…I have to…I have to go," she stammered, running out of the door and down the hall.

The run to her apartment was a blur, the usually vibrant neighborhood melting away as she hurried up the streets, hardly looking where she was going. It was a miracle a car didn't hit her, for all she was paying attention. It wasn't until she had safely slammed her front door shut that she was aware of herself again.

"I'm going mad," she gasped, clutching her satchel to her chest.

_Certainly not. You're as sound as ever._

Caroline bolted into the bathroom and promptly hurled into the sink, not quite making it to the toilet. After she was done gagging and spitting up her lunch, she closed her eyes, bracing herself to look in the mirror. If Loki was there, then seeing him in the poster's reflection wasn't just a figment of her imagination. Knuckles gripping the sink so tight they were white, she raised her face and opened her eyes. Sure enough, next to her familiar, if slightly wane face was Loki. In the mirror he stood next to her, wearing an elaborate leather outfit she had never seen before. His long black hair was brushed back and he wore a look somewhere between bemusement and contempt. She turned to look next to her, but saw only empty air.

Looking back in the mirror, Loki was still very much standing next to her.

"How is this possible?" She asked, voice shaky.

_Why don't you clean _that_ up, then we'll talk_, in the mirror his lips moved, though the sound came from inside her own skull.

Caroline glanced down at the sink and wrinkled her nose. Stooping, she pulled her cleaning supplies from underneath the vanity. She devoted herself wholeheartedly to the task, trying her best to block out the strange man who might or might not be standing next to her. Once she was finished, and her sink gleamed spotless, she took out the garbage all the way to the dumpsters at the back of the building. She focused on each step she took, each movement and breathe. Anything to keep from thinking about what was going on.

Once finished with cleaning and was back in the apartment, Caroline headed to her freezer .She pulled out her pint of red velvet ice-cream. If any situation called for ice-cream, this was it.

"So I'm not crazy?" she asked out loud to the empty apartment.

_Of course not. Well, no more than most humans are, anyway. You simply happen to have a Norse god temporarily residing in your consciousness. _Loki answered as if it were the most obviously thing in the world.

"I don't remember giving you permission to take up residence in my brain," she snapped before taking a spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth.

_I was in a…delicate situation. You were the closest, most familiar thing I could fixate on._

She bristled a little at being referred to as a thing. It sounded like he wasn't telling her the entire truth, Caroline though as she ate another spoonful of ice-cream, the delicious better-than-chocolate taste running down her throat.

_How perceptive of you, little apricot. _Loki sneered. _You don't need to know the entire truth._

Caroline blinked. "Of course you can hear my thoughts. How stupid of me to think otherwise." She took another bite. "And yes, I think I _do _need to know the entire truth. If you haven't noticed, _you're in my body._"

Her outburst was met with silence for a long moment, and she wondered if her delusions had finally come to an end. Before she could take another scoop of ice-cream, an image flashed before her eyes. Two young boys, one blond, the other raven-haired. An old man was speaking to them, but his words were far away for Caroline, like he was talking through water. Another image: the boys all grown up and fighting in a frozen wasteland. The noise was closer now, crisper. Loki's arm turning blue instead of burnt black by frost. She knew that was the wrong thing to happen, though she couldn't say how she knew. A frozen cube of winter. Rage, bright and burning.

The images flashed faster and faster and Caroline stopped comprehending each as a thing of its own; rather she began to see them all at once, a story of pain, betrayal and rage. She began to understand the deeper meaning behind each, as if she had experienced them all herself.

A bridge made out of a living rainbow, shattered. Darkness visible. Eternal night. The void. Faster and faster they came. Pain beyond description. A different blue cube, so lovely Caroline's heart ached for it. It promised her everything she'd every wanted, to unlock all the secrets of the past. A city, _her _city, in ruins. Defeat. A glass cage. A frail looking thing with eyes like the Gatekeeper's.

**Give up, Lie-Smith**.

The voice filled Caroline with such dread she thought she would be sick again. Terror beyond anything she had ever imagined chilled her bones and made her blood run sluggish. That was the voice of death itself.

A sudden wrenching in her head and the images stopped.

Caroline came back to herself; she had head down on the kitchen table. Her ice-cream carton had tipped over, a pinkish puddle slowly spreading across the wood. She was sobbing, great wracking sobs that made her body ach and her face hurt. Snot ran out of her nose onto her lips. She shuffled, trying to wish it away. She felt raw and hallowed out.

She wasn't made to feel what he felt.

_So you see, it was either tie myself to you, or hand myself over to something you can't begin to imagine. _When he spoke, his voice was somehow softer than before, perhaps more gentle, though it still rang with self-righteousness.

She didn't know if she could forgive him.

Standing, she methodically cleaned the ice-cream from the table as she tried to sort through her emotions, and differentiate what she was feeling from what he was and had been feeling.

Caroline put the spoon in the sink and splashed cold water onto her face, trying to erase the snot and tears. She knew her cheeks and eyes were red, probably puffy too. She took a deep breath, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. When she spoke, she did so in calm, measured tones, though she was sure he could taste the fury lying underneath.

"I'm very upset with what you've done to me." She could feel him trying to speak up, but she kept going, refusing him a voice until she'd had her say. "You have invaded my mind without permission, wedged yourself into a place that no other person is _meant_ to be besides me. I feel violated. Tell me what to do so I can get you out of me."

A bitter taste entered her mouth, sour and sad. _Regret._ Why should she feel regret? After a moment, she realize _he_ felt regret.

_I need to go back to where I was kept…where I was taken. If there is a lead to be found, it will be there._

Caroline cocked her head to the side and frowned. "Let me get this straight, you want me to break into SHIELD and poke around in what is probably the most well guarded crime-scene in the entire universe?"

_Well yes_.

"Just how in the ever-loving hell am I going to do that?" She snapped, flinging herself back down at the kitchen table.

_It's simple._ He started, the condescension in his voice apparent. _Go to SHIELD, tell them you left some of your belongings yesterday. The acolytes at the desk have no idea what you've been doing or what has happened to me. They'll let you through. My magic can access the locked doors._

He certainly sounded pleased with himself, Caroline reflected. But magic? It all sounded so…crazy. Despite the day's events, for her magic was for myths and legends, and _Harry Potter_, not everyday life. But if it would get him out of her head, it was worth a shot. Still, she needed to be sure it would work.

"How can you do magic without a body?" She asked skeptically.

Loki harrumphed inside her mind. _Magic isn't predicated on a body, little apricot. It is a power of the mind. I still have my mind, if you hadn't noticed._

"Still, can't you try something small now, so I'm not totally screwed when it doesn't work at SHIELD?"

Caroline paused, waiting for his snappy reply; she was sure she didn't like her assumption that he was wrong.

Waiting, she picked at a spot of dirt on the table, trying to scrape it up with the back of her nail. When she looked up, she jumped. Seated across the table from her, as if he had been there the entire time, was Loki. He had his hands folded in front of him and was regarding her with a cool gaze.

"Holy shit," Caroline murmured.

Involuntarily, she reached a hand out to him. Her fingertips met soft leather, and underneath hard muscle. She looked up at him, a flush running across her cheek, and quickly dropped her hand.

"Holy shit."

"Well, that's odd," Loki mused, watching her.

Caroline shook her head, trying to refocus on the conversation and not on the fact that the Norse god of mischief was both residing in her brain and sitting at her kitchen table. He was right there. Not in a mirror, not a non-corporeal voice inside her head. Flesh and blood.

"What's odd?" She finally asked.

The right side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. "This," he motioned to his body with his hands, "is just a projection. You should not be able to touch it. In fact, I should have dissolved the moment you did."

"So why didn't it?" she asked, trying not to stare at him too much.

He frowned. "I do not know. Perhaps it is because for all intents and purposes you are my body at present. The conduit through which my will and magic flow."

"So you do need a body to do magic," she pointed out.

"In a manner of speaking, but it is the mind which is more important. You could have the most magical body in all the Nine Realms but it would do you no good if you did not have a mind to match."

Caroline frowned, considering his words. _That_ brought a number of questions to her mind, but she decided not to bother with them at the moment.

"I don't think I can go at all this week," she said, returning to his plan. "I'm locked into meetings and working…"

Loki _tsk_ed. "This is rather more important than some _human _meetings."

She shot him a glance, eyes flashing. "Just because I'm not some mythical being doesn't mean my life isn't important. You're _in my body_, Loki. You can work around its schedule."

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he disappeared; though if she tried hard enough, she could still feeling him nestles up against her consciousness.

"Very mature," she said to the thin air.

* * *

Caroline stared up at her bedroom ceiling, willing herself to sleep. Captain Mittens was curled up on the other pillow. When she had first adopted him, he had liked to lie by her feet, but soon he discovered she tossed and turned in her sleep. It was safer by Caroline's head. The sounds of the city bled in through the window, though she was used to them enough that they didn't really register.

Her brain kept replaying the last twenty-four hours over and over again. Slow motion, fast forward, frame by frame. Every detail examined. Her strange symptoms—could they really be explained by Loki invading her body? And oh, how she'd embarrassed herself in front of Mitch—she definitely owed him an apology.

_Would you please stop thinking and go to sleep?_

His tired voice gave her a start, her hands gripping the blankets tight for a moment. It was the first time he'd spoken to her since he had disappeared at her kitchen table. She had almost convinced herself that it had all been a dream she'd just woken from.

"I can't sleep," she huffed, rolling onto her side. After a long moment, she spoke again. "Is it your fault my senses are going haywire?"

_Probably. I have far superior senses to a human. Being in your body is a strange feeling, like I've been submerged in water. Perhaps my magic is trying to compensate._

"Well could you knock it off? It's cool to be able to run really fast and all, but hearing conversations half way down a hallway is really disconcerting."

_Your mind should become accustomed to it soon. Imagine, you've trained yourself to cancel out background noise thus far. Give your ears a day or two to adjust to the increase in aural onslaught._

She sighed, and gently ran her fingers over her kitty's head. He didn't wake, though the tip of his tail twitched. Her eyelids were feeling heavier, and her muscles more relaxed. Though she had not expected it, Loki's voice had rather a soothing quality.

_I'm so pleased you think so, little apricot._

"Don't sound so pleased with yourself…I'm still mad at you."

There was a long pause and Caroline thought he might be sulking again.

_I suppose I would be angry as well, were I in your situation._

His apologetic tone made her feel sorry, if only a little bit. It wasn't like he had done this to her maliciously. She had been in his memories well enough to know he really didn't have much of a choice. It wasn't like he even chose her specifically—he had just happened to fixate on her at the right time. Still, she did have the right to feel upset about the situation.

"Listen, if we're…going to be sharing a body, I think we should set some ground rules," she finally murmured when he didn't comment on her thoughts.

_What do you propose?_

She thought back to that evening, when he had been quite. "Is there someplace you…go when you're not talking to me?"

_No…yes. It's difficult to explain._

Caroline waited patiently for him to continue, though she could taste his reluctance.

_Imagine, if you will, two bubbles, one inside of the other. The inner one is completely submerged in the outer one, but also separate. The walls between them are…fragile and more or less transparent. But there are walls._

"Is that what it's really like, inside a mind, I mean?"

_Not really, but it should help you to understand._

"So, if I've got this, you have a part of your mind that's inside mine, but completely closed off?"

_Not exactly_. She could hear the frustration in his voice, because it made her feel frustrated as well. _As I said, the barrier between our minds is fragile. They can easily bleed together. However, if I exert enough will, I can close my part off to yours—make the walls more opaque, stronger, for a brief time._

Caroline still wasn't entirely sure that made complete sense to her, but she was willing to go with it. "Okay, first rule: when I'm showering, bathing, changing, or in any way in a state of undress, you have to go hide in your bubble."

_As if I would debase myself to such voyeuristic perversions for your measly human flesh._

His voice was a fresh cut her pride, though she couldn't be sure if she felt wounded by his words, or he was feeling wounded by hers.

"Well you debased yourself enough to crawl right into my measly human flesh," she snapped, her anger flaring at his dismissal. "Second rule: no poking around in my memories."

_I cannot "poke around", as you say. Do you people honestly not understand how the brain works yet? _He sighed. _Unless you are actively thinking of something, I am no more aware of it than you are._

They laid in silence for a long moment, the sound of traffic calmly rushing through the window.

_Anything else?_

Caroline thought hard, the fog of sleep quickly descending on her. She couldn't really think of anything, but wasn't it always best to do things in threes?

"Maybe…maybe when I'm alone in my apartment you could make that projection of yourself…It would…make me feel…less crazy," she muttered, heavy eyelids giving into the demands of sleep.

* * *

Thursdays were always busy for Caroline. Not only did she have her usual routine of working out and study time, but she had a departmental meeting, two of her language groups met in the afternoon, and, on this particular Thursday, she had an advisor meeting with Dr. Hill scheduled.

Much to her delight, Loki remained more or less quite throughout the day. She could almost forget that he was there, though to really forget that there was a Norse god in her head was impossible. She wondered what he was doing, but didn't want to ask—she had asked him to respect her privacy; certainly she could do the same.

It wasn't until she was safe at home, working on the historiography section of her dissertation that he broke his silence. She was sitting at her old wooden desk, which was wedged into a corner of her bedroom. The words were flowing through her fingers for once, a steady stream of ideas that she was eager to type out before they disappeared.

_I think you should go to SHIELD tomorrow._

Caroline paused from her typing, the half-formed sentences melting away from her.

"Why?" she let her annoyance at his interruption apparent through her voice, though he could probably already tell what she was feeling.

_If you wait any longer, you are giving them the opportunity to remember you. If they recall that you still have two more appointments, they will send you a notice saying your appointments are cancelled. Then we have no alibi for showing up. Your privileges will be cancelled, and your presence on their ground will be met with immediate suspicion._

Caroline supposed he was right, though she was hesitant to go. Not only because it sounded wildly dangerous, but because if she went, she was acknowledging that this was more than just a delusion.

"I dunno…I mean, I've got tons of work to do," she said halfheartedly, staring at the stack of midterms she still needed to grade.

_Besides, the longer you wait to collect your missing possessions, the more it will become suspicious._

She knew she had to go sooner or later, but it gave her a much needed sense of control over her life to deny him what he wanted. His words made sense though. The longer she waited, the more suspicious her presence would be.

Caroline threw her hands into the air and gave an exasperated sight, "alright, fine! We'll go tomorrow."

He didn't say anything in reply, but she could feel his self-satisfaction rise up through her chest and spread pleasingly through her limbs. It annoyed her.

* * *

Nervousness and anxiety roiled in Caroline's stomach as she stepped foot into the immaculate SHIELD lobby. She had fought the urge to be sick the entire subway ride and being at her destination only made it worse. If she was caught snooping around who knows what they'd do to her. SHIELD was, after all, some top secret government agency. For fuck's sake they had a Norse god as their prisoner.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. Being nervous would only make her look more suspicious.

She approached the front desk and smiled at the guard, handing over her temporary badge as she did so.

"Name and purpose?"

"Caroline Elizabeth Woods…I usually have an appointment on Tuesdays, but I forgot some of my belongings the other day."

The guard gave her a measured look as she scanned the card. Caroline got the distinct impression that most people didn't deviated from their set appointment times here.

"I'll have to call Agent Coulson to escort you," the guard stated, staring at her computer screen.

Caroline smiled, though her heart was plummeting, "no problem. I'll go wait for him at the elevators, shall I?"

The woman waved her through, and after a tortuously slow search of her bag and phone call, Caroline hurried towards the elevator bank as quickly as she dared. This was a shaping up to be a disaster. If Coulson found her, everything would be ruined.

"Alright," she muttered under her breath. "I got us in. Now help me with the technology."

_I need you think hard on the times you have watched the Son of Coul escorted you. What did he do exactly?_

Caroline felt sick. She could see the guard at the other end of the hallway, watching her every now and then. If she was seen pressing the elevator buttons, it would look bad.

_Focus Caroline_.

The purr of his voice somehow gave her the clarity she needed. Closing her eyes, she envisioned Coulson sliding his I.D. badge through the card reader.

_Excellent. Now, think of it again, but this time slide your card. And open your eyes for the love of Valhalla. _His tone went from calming and instructive to annoyed so quickly it made her head spin.

Unscrewing her eyes, she did as she was told. When she thought of Coulson taking out his badge, she took out her badge. When she thought of him sliding it through the reader, she did the same. He punched the down arrow in her mind at the exact time she did so in reality. Caroline felt a warm rush of…happiness? Pleasure? flow through her fingers as the arrow on top of the elevator doors was illuminated.

_Congratulations, you've just preformed your first bit of magic._

"I did magic?" she whispered.

Before he could respond to her, there was a loud _ding_ and the elevator doors slid open. Caroline was fully ready to step inside when Agent Coulson appeared behind the silver gateway.

"Miss Woods," he nodded his head in greeting. "I was just coming to get you. Please," Coulson motioned for her to step into the elevator.

What the hell was going on? Caroline thought as she stepped into the car. Did he seriously have some of her belongs? She was certain she hadn't left anything. Maybe he _knew_. He throat tightened at the thought.

_Remain calm. _Loki's voice floated through her thoughts.

She wanted to snap at him that she was calm, but she held her tongue, but she didn't need another incident like the one in her office the other day.

"I left my raincoat here…"

"I'm afraid your interview privileges must be suspended for the foreseeable future," Coulson spoke at the same time she had tried to explain her arrival.

Caroline looked at him, willing herself look surprised and worried. "Have I done something to void my contracts?"

"Let's wait until we reach my office, shall we?"

That sounded ominous, though she did her best to smile and nod. The rest of the short elevator ride was silent. As Caroline followed Coulson down a labyrinth of corridors to his office, she began to worry. What if he suspected she knew something about Loki? Not that she really knew where his body was. But what would they do if she knew his mind was inside of her own? Would they lock her up? Interrogate her? Images of grisly, medieval torture scenes from movies floated through her mind.

_Has anyone ever told you that you have an overactive imagination?_ Loki quipped.

She ignored him, and before she could freak herself out enough to run back to the elevators, they reached his office. It was a typical office—noting particularly stood out, though it was on a corner of the building.

"Please, have a seat," Coulson said, motioning to the oatmeal colored armchair across from his desk.

Caroline did as she was told and waited for him to continue.

"I want emphasize that you did nothing to breech your confidentiality waivers. This is entirely an internal matter that, unfortunately, affects you."  
She let out a nervous laugh, "I guess that's good news," she cleared her throat. "for me, at least."

Coulson gave her a tight smile. "Yes, I suppose it is. Now, I need to ask you a serious question, but you must promise me that it will not leave this room."

Caroline swallowed hard.

"Of course," she stammered.

Coulson fixed her with a strangely paternal look. As if he would be not angry but _disappointed_ if she lied.

"Has Loki tried to contact you over the past few days? Through a proxy or…?" He did not finish the question, but left it up to her imagination.

Her eyes widened. Memories of Loki's face next to hers in the mirror, him sitting across from her at the kitchen table, the feel of his arm against her fingers all flashed through her mind.

"No, I can't say that he has."

_That lie was delicious enough I could feast myself on it for a turn of the moon, apricot. _

Caroline ignored him, and instead watched Coulson. She couldn't decide if he believed her, but maybe she was just being paranoid because she knew she was lying.

"Well," he said, handing her a business card. "Let me know if he does."

She took the card with relief and slipped it into her pocket. She couldn't decide if it was more or less suspicious to ask the obvious follow up to that question. After a moment, she decided she had better.

"Is he…I mean…has he escaped?"

"I can't answer that." There was an awkward pause. "But let me assure you that if you need it, SHIELD can provide for your safety."

She couldn't really think of anything to say in reply, so she just smiled and muttered a halfhearted thank you. She hoped her natural nervousness was channeling into an appropriate response in his eyes.

After a moment Coulson stood and moved to the door of his office.

"I am sorry we couldn't help more with your dissertation. But if Thor shows up in the near future, we'll let you know," he said half-joking, before opening the door and motioning her out.

Caroline stood and smiled in thanks as an irrational flash of loathing and jealousy seared through her body.

* * *

Standing on the platform of the subway, Caroline pulled out her phone and pretended to make a call.

"Well, what now?" She asked, knowing Loki would figure out that her words were meant for him.

_I haven't a clue._

"Fantastic."

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter 3!**

**I'd like to thank Zizfox and BloodRedRoses24 for taking the time to review chapter 2! I'd also like to thank everyone who added this story or me to their favorites or alerts! 3**

**Comments, Questions, Constructive Criticism? Please PM or Review! **


	4. Dead Ends

Caroline sat at her kitchen table, purple pen in hand, finally making a dent in the exams she had meant to grade weeks ago. She had her tablet open off to the side, a classical music station playing softly in the background. Caroline found it impossible to concentrate on what she was reading if the background music had words or at least words in English. A number from Tchaikovsky's _Nutcracker_ was currently wafting through her apartment, and she tapped her feet reflexively to the sound.

She had, of course, already graded the multiple choice part of the exams—that was easy, if time consuming, just feed each test through the scantron machine. Now she was making her way through the essay section. She had given them the choice of either explaining the evolution and importance of agriculture from the ancient period to the early Middle Ages, or the development of writing. Most chose the agriculture question, though the writing responses proved to be the best answers so far.

_The importance of Agriculture is obviously so people can eat. Without it, a country would starve. Many countries had to import food in ancient times, for example, Egypt. _Caroline read while massaging her temps from the massive headache she could feel coming on.

_You know, I was thinking_.

Caroline jumped as Loki materialized across from her, "Jesus Christ!"

Loki smirked, "not quite. Anyway," he continued, ignoring her scowl. "I was thinking. Perhaps if we cannot track my body through physical means, as made obvious by our failure last week, magical means must suffice."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"There's a spell," he said.

"A spell?"

"Yes. It is…complicated. But I'm confident that I can perform it," the self assured smile spreading across his usually stern face made him look much younger than usual.

"Perform it through my body," she pointed out, feeling that it had to be relevant though she wasn't sure how.

A slight crease appeared between his eyes, "well, obviously. But it's my magic, little apricot. You will be fine."

She frowned, displeased with his easy attitude towards her health and well-being. "You know _this_," she gestured to her torso, "is the only body you've got for the moment, so you better be sure that I _will_ be fine."

Loki waived his hand though his eyes lingered over her torso, shrouded as it was in a hooded sweatshirt, "As I said, you will be fine. You've handled minor spells without any complications. I don't see why this spell should be any different."

Caroline wanted to object, but she was out of her element. She knew next to nothing about magic, real, actual magic. And Loki was obviously very well trained. She wasn't sure if she was more annoyed at his attitude or her own ignorance. Still, if this would make her mind her own again, it was worth it.

"Well, alright, I guess. Why don't we do the spell then," she said, making to stand up.

Loki squinched up his face like he had just tasted something really sour. "There is a _slight_ problem."

She sat back down with a sigh. Of course there was a problem, nothing about Loki, or her life since he had invaded it, was very simple.

"Okay," she said slowly, hoping to god that the problem wasn't something like they needed to sacrifice a virgin.

"Don't worry, it's nothing that dramatic." He was clearly amused by her imagination. After a pause, "I simply don't know how to do the spell," he said through tight lips, clearly not pleased at having to admit his own shortcomings.

"But you just said you thought you'd be able to perform it without a problem," she pointed out, wrinkling her forehead in confusion.

The smug look returned to his angular face. "Of course I _will_ be able to do the spell. I simply need to obtain a copy of it first. There has got to be a few copies lying around this realm."

Caroline raised her eyebrow, not sure if she should be annoyed at his dismissive tone or amused at his ignorance about Earth. "I mean it's not like this world is big or anything. We'll just pop over to the local wizarding supply store and pick it up."

It was Loki's turn to scowl, "Are you mocking me?"

She couldn't keep the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. He just looked so affronted when he was angry. Like it was a great indignity to his person to be teased.

"Maybe a little," she confessed, chuckling.

"This is not a laughing matter, Caroline," he sniffed, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, don't be so serious," she said, making an exaggerated frown. "Really though. I mean, do you have the name of the book we need? There are hundreds of libraries and even more bookshops in the city. And if there's nothing here, there's always the internet. I'm sure it'll be easy enough to find."

he drummed is fingers on the table for a moment, thinking.

"_Animancy_, is the title, I believe. Magic of the mind, or soul, if you're romantically inclined," he said dismissively, indicating that he was certainly not one of the latter.

Caroline nodded and scribbled the word down on the open page of her planner.

"Great. I've got to be on campus tomorrow for class and office hours. But I'll pop over to the Butler Library after and see if we might have it somewhere on campus. And then, if that doesn't give us anything, we can try the Public Library."

Those were the two libraries she had immediate access to anyway. If she couldn't find it in either collections, then their search would be infinitely more difficult. Books out of circulation were notoriously hard to track down.

"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it," Loki said reassuringly.

Caroline frowned again, "do you have to do that?"

"Do what?" He asked, adopting an air of injury.

"Comment on my thoughts. I know you can hear them, but it's weird. Especially when you're sitting across the table from me having a conversation," she tried to explain as calmly as she could.

"Unless I actually watch you speak, I cannot tell the difference," he paused, but continued before the sarcastic retort could bubble past her lips. "However, if it would put you more at ease, I shall endeavor to _humanize_ our conversations."

Try as he might, and Caroline suspected he wasn't trying_ very_ hard, he couldn't keep a slight sneer of contempt form his voice. She rolled her eyes, but muttered a thank you.

Pen in hand again, she returned to the papers before her. Though the lusty notes of an opera helped fill the air—someone was dying, and dying with vigor—, Caroline was painfully aware that Loki was sitting across from her, watching. Rhythmically, he drummed his fingers against the table.

She finished the test before her and added up the points. Caroline winced; 64%, not terribly good. Hopefully their multi-choice section would boost them a little. She put it in the complete stack and took the next one. Loki fidgeted in his seat and sighed.

_A writing system is a marker of a fully developed civilization. Many early writing systems were pictorially based, and later evolved into more abstract systems._

Loki sighed again and began to pick at a hang nail, loudly. It was quite impressive considering he didn't actually have a body. Caroline very carefully put her pen down and looked up at him pointedly.

"Would you like to help grade these?" she asked, gesturing to the papers next to her elbow.

Loki raised an eyebrow and sneered, "such things are beneath me, Caroline."

She rolled her eyes, and stood. His response was annoying but pretty predictable. She had only asked to see what he would say, well that and to get him to stop making such irritating noises. Making her way over to the bookshelves against the opposite wall in the living room area, she plucked a thick blue volume with a large sword on the cover off the shelf and tossed it to him.

"Here, keep yourself entertained so you don't drive me any more crazy that you already heave," she said lightly before returning to her seat.

Surreptitiously, she watched him turn the brick of a book over in his hands. It was a flimsy paperback, almost too thick to support itself, with a cracked spine and dog eared corners, but, she suspected, it would catch his interest.

"_A Game of Thrones?"_ He read aloud, brows knit together as he scanned the covers for more information.

"There are four more books in the series, each thicker than that one" she offered helpfully.

Loki thumbed open the front cover and began to read.

* * *

Caroline managed to finish grading the exams in time for Wednesday's class, much to her students' relief, or dread, depending on how they did. Though she was still having some trouble with background noise and hearing things that she normally shouldn't, Loki had been right. It was much easier for Caroline to concentrate and block out the extraneous sounds. Anyway, she managed to complete class without her students thinking she was crazy, and that's what mattered most to her at the moment.

"I've just go to stop at my office for an hour or so, then we can go to the library," she whispered to Loki, hoping no one noticed that she was seemingly talking to thin air.

Though he had been fairly quite all day, his anxiety and anticipation were coursing through her system, making her edgy. It had been hard to get through the class period without snapping at her students for side chatter, though they were quiet enough that a normal professor wouldn't notice. Clearly, he was impatient for her to being their search.

_It's not as if any of the little miscreants are going to bother you in the next hour or so_, Loki started.

"Don't talk about my students that way," she hissed, momentarily forgetting to whisper.

A startled freshman side-eyed her, but Caroline just hurried on to her office.

_Please, little apricot, you talk about your students that way, _he drawled.

She rolled her eyes, "I do not!"

Caroline finally made it to her office and closed the door behind her, happy to see that Mitch wasn't there as usual.

Ugh. Mitch.

She'd managed to avoid him since the day he had found her passed out in the office. She definitely needed to apologize to him; if for nothing more than being an utter ingrate for his medical attention and concern. Involuntarily, her hand shot up to rub the spot on her forehead that had gotten cut open. The wound was healing nicely, though she might have a tiny little scar for a while.

Caroline glanced around the room. It was tiny, and made even smaller by two work spaces awkwardly jammed inside. The space was divided by one narrow window on the middle of the far wall. Caroline and Mitch's desks faced each other. There were also two bookshelves per scholar. Caroline's were behind her desk chair; Mitch had his flanking the window and door, leaving the wall behind his desk free for posters. Bright spring afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, lightening the usually dim room.

Caroline sat at her desk and pulled out a grade-book from her leather satchel. Though it had to be computerized, she liked to have a physical copy of her students' grades; she was the same way with her planner. There was just something comforting about pen moving across paper, and owing a physical record of your life.

She bent down to turn her computer on, and managed not to jump out of her skin when she popped back up to see Loki seated across from her, dressed, rather surprisingly, in black jeans and a green polo sweater. He had apparently been taking notice of how people dressed around here.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, startled.

"Making you look less insane," he said causally, picking the sword-shaped penknife off her desk. "You'll inevitably speak to me, anyway. "

"Put that down!" She snapped, snatching it out of his hands. The image of the dull blade embedded into some unsuspecting intruder's eyeball flashing through her mind.

Loki held his hands in front of himself in a gesture of surrender. "Has anyone told you that you would greatly benefit from learning to relax yourself?"

"I _was _relaxed, until you decided to possess me," she returned. "Now I feel like everyone knows I'm going crazy."

"We've been over this; you are not becoming mad," he said, sounding bored.

"Are you sure? Because I am literally hallucinating an argument with a Norse god who also happens to be a voice inside my head. In what world is that not crazy?"

Loki studies his nails, probably more for the dramatic visual than because he was actually worried about the state of his non-corporeal fingers. "In my world, obviously. And it is not a hallucination if it is actually taking place."

Caroline scowled and turned her attention to her computer and the task at hand. Loki was mercifully quite for the moment. She could feel him watching her though, and it made her movements feel awkward, even if she was only typing.

"Stop staring at me," she said, not lifting her gaze from the computer screen.

"What else am I supposed to do? You forgot my book." There was a pause. "Is Jon Snow really Ned Stark's bastard? I find it hard to believe…"

She looked up, about to answer him, when the office door swung open.

Christ. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. She glanced at Loki, hoping he would disappear, but he just smirked at her.

"Oh. I didn't realize you were with anyone," Mitch said, eyeing Loki with curiosity.

Well this was awkward: her work colleague—someone she was very committed to making sure he thought she was sane—had more or less walked into on her having a conversation with her imaginary friend. The tiny room felt claustrophobic with the three of them in it, and she wished she could open the window. And maybe jump out of it.

"Hey Mitch…" she began, scrambling for a good explanation of who Loki might be. "This is...Luke Northman. We went to undergrad together. Luke," Caroline began, turning to Loki and begging him mentally to play along, "this is Mitchell Park, my cohort and officemate."

Mitch held out his hand to "Loki and smiled "pleased to meet you!"

Loki stared at the hand for a moment, clearly unwilling to touch another person and reveal himself. Caroline groaned internally—this was all so messy, and rude, and awkward. After the longest moment of her life, Loki unfolded himself from the chair opposite her desk and leaned towards her. She stood rooted to the ground, immobile with shock, as his lips brushed against her cheek. He squeezed her shoulder in a friendly fashion.

"It was wonderful to catch up with you, Caroline," he murmured stepping away. "Remember to call me if you're ever in London."

Loki nodded to Mitch and walked out of the office door. She watched him literally disappear around the corner before she managed to snap out of her shock. She smiled awkwardly at Mitch hoping that he didn't think her rude by association.

"Um, sorry about that," she started, shuffling together a random stack of papers on her desk. "Actually, yeah, sorry about last week too. I was such a spaz, and you were being really nice and helpful…"

"Oh, it's alright…you bumped your head so…" he trailed off, clearly still wondering about the strange man he had just found in his office.

Feeling embarrassed, but not entirely sure why, Caroline sat back down at her computer and tried to get some work done. Instead she felt her eyes wander across to the room, to watch Mitch rummage around in his desk for a minute. She frowned, why was he here, anyway? He never came in on Wednesdays. They had an unspoken agreement that she didn't come in on Tuesdays, so he could work undisturbed, and he didn't come in on Wednesdays. This was twice in as many weeks now that he was here on a day he shouldn't be.

He looked up and caught her staring. She quickly looked back at her computer, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door, and a student she didn't recognize hovered just outside.

"Professor Park, are you free?" he ask, glancing nervously at Caroline.

Mitch straightened up and gave the student an easy smile, "Sure thing, Connor, why don't you come in?"

There was one small chair, usually right underneath the window though Loki had moved, that they shared for visiting students. Mitch indicated that Connor should pull up the seat.

Caroline glanced back at her computer, trying to ignore their conversation. She looked at the clock in the right hand corner of her desktop. Only half an hour left. She could make it.

* * *

"Caroline?"

Her head snapped up at the sound of Mitch's voice. The student was gone, how long ago, she wasn't really sure; she had finally managed to get in the zone.

Well fuck. This probably wasn't good.

"Yup?" She smiled brightly, hope it looked natural.

_It doesn't, _Loki put in.

Shut the hell up, she thought back, startled to hear him again. When had he returned to her mind?

_Oh, I never really leave. Think of me as your conscience._

That's a terrible idea, she thought wryly.

"Caroline?" Mitch asked, rather loudly, snapping her back to reality once again.

"huh? I'm sorry…I was miles away." What a lame excuse.

_Truer words have never been spoken._

"Do you want to get coffee with me next week?" He asked again, looking at her earnestly.

What?

_What?_

NOT YOU.

Caroline thought it would be a miracle if she managed to keep her face straight for this entire conversation. Loki was truly a test for her self-discipline.

"Like a group thing?" she asked, buying for time, "with Cat and the others?" She knew he didn't mean a group thing.

"No like a you and me thing," he grinned, revealing dimples on both sides of his mouth.

She should say no. She should definitely say no. They were officemates and cohorts; they were going to be stuck together for the next five years, at least. But saying no would be so rude. And his smile was so infectious.

"Yeah, okay," she heard herself say, smile still plastered on her face.

* * *

Caroline flopped onto her sofa, hoping the elevation would sooth her aching feet. She had probably walked the length of a small country today, running from this library to that one all across the city. Her hands felt grimy from all the dusty books and card catalogs she'd touched, but she was too tired to actually stand up and wash them. Who knew tracking down one book was going to be so goddamned difficult. Not to mention she was mentally exhausted from dealing with Loki commenting on every single one of her waking thoughts. He had wanted to know all about Mitch. Finally, she'd told him to shut up or she was going home.

That had been effective.

The stacks at Columbia's Butler Library had yielded nothing, and similarly the Rare Books and Manuscript Collection had been a dead end—although she had found a manuscript that she wanted to come back and look at later for her dissertation. Then she'd taken the subway down all the way to fifth and forty-second to the main branch of the public library; from there, it was only a few blocks to the Morgan Library. Still, her hands were empty. She'd even tried searching online, both sites for buying books and sites for renting books, and there was just nothing. Caroline was beginning to doubt this book existed on earth at all.

Normally a trip to the Public Library, with its colossal public reading room, or the Morgan Library with its majestic setting and beautiful décor was enough to make her heart fly, but tonight she just felt empty, tired, and defeated.

She stared at the ceiling for a moment, tracing the the pre-war crown molding with her eyes. her stomach grumbled. Slowly, Caroline swung her legs off of the sofa and stood. After scrubbing her hands thoroughly, she started making dinner. Cooking always soothed her—the mechanical process of chopping, stirring, and combining ingredients to make something delicious helped ease her busy mind. Tonight she decided on shrimp risotto.

Getting out the cutting board, she started chopping the aromatics—onions, garlic, celery, and carrots._ Chop chop chop._ She turned the front burner of her stove on and melted butter in a big cast iron Dutch-oven. Caroline threw the veggies in and turned her attention to peeling and deveining the shrimp. After a few minutes, the bases of her nails turned purple with cold from touching the seafood, but she paid it no mind.

_That's quite a lot of food for one person, _Loki commented rather snidely.

Caroline quirked her lips up in a smirk, "I'm eating for two now, thanks to you."

_Is that some sort of jest, little apricot?_ He was clearly unimpressed what passed for a joke on Midgard.

She ignored him, and continued working, taking a moment to stir the pot again.

"Hey, can you taste stuff when I eat it?" She asked, genuinely curious as she nibbled at a carrot to see how cooked it was.

_I experience all sensations of your body._

She grimaced, unsure how she felt about that, and dumped a cup of Arborio rice into the butter and veggies.

"So I'm beginning to doubt your book exists," she started, trying to make conversation. "We've been to the three most impressive libraries in what amounts to the intellectual center of country and found nothing. It's not even online," she grumbled, dumping a cup of white wine into the pot.

_It has only been one day. Surely you're not giving up already?_ The bitter bite of his despair was heavy in her mouth.

Caroline sighed, "of course I'm not giving up. I'm just…cranky."

She finished putting the rest of the liquid ingredients into the Dutch-oven and left it on the stove to simmer. She sat at the table and waited for him to materialize before her. Caroline didn't have to wait long; a moment later he was sitting across from her, as usual, dressed the same as he had been earlier.

"What are we even going to do once we find your body? I mean, it's obviously …compromised," she asked, wondering why he wasn't more bothered by that fact.

Loki gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders, "I'll figure it out when we reach that point."

Caroline stood to give her dinner a few stirs, and to toss the shrimp in. She didn't really like his answer, but she could feel enough of his own mind to know that he was worried about the exact same thing. It seemed silly to her for him to pretend otherwise, considering she could feel exactly what he was feeling, but she left it alone. The brief flashback to the memories he had shown her their first night stuck together made her think he must have his reason for being so distant.

"What about rare book collectors?" His voice rang from behind her, possibly trying to switch her train of thought from his past.

She turned around, wooden spoon still in her hand, "what do you mean?"

"In Asgard most knowledge is held in private hands—wealthy citizens or institutions build private collections over generations. One needs permission to access these reservoirs—they're not open to the general populace as your libraries seem to be here. But perhaps there are private collections in Midgard as well? Anyway," he continued, "there are people who specialize in tracking down rare volumes for these collections. Surely there are a few such individuals in this realm as well."

Caroline tilted her head to the side, thinking. There was definitely something to that. As a perpetual university student, she was so used to using InterLibrary Loan that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She'd had enough medieval intellectual history to know that that's how modern libraries had begun. Surely there were still avid collectors with rare, priceless books around the world. And where there were people willing to spend money, there are always people willing to help them do so.

"You might be right," she said, sitting back down. "There are a bunch of rare bookstores in the city. I can go check them out tomorrow, see if anybody can help."

Loki smiled, clearly pleased he had come up with the answer to their problem, "I caution you, though. Be careful how you go about asking for this book. I'm assuming that rare as it is, whoever actually owns it might know how powerful it truly is. We may have to…employ other means of persuasion to get our hands on it."

She frowned, not liking the feeling he gave her as he spoke. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, at present; I am simply trying to prepare you for all possibilities."

* * *

**There's chapter four! I hope you all enjoyed it. **

**Notes: The libraries mentioned in this chapter are all real! I had tons of fun looking into all of them, though eventually I decided describing Caroline wandering through a million different bookshelves wasn't ultimately that interesting. **

**I'd like to thank ZizFox for reviewing the previous chapter! Thank you darling, it made my day to get your message. **

**I'd also like to thank anyone who added this story or me to their favorites / alert lists. **

**Comments? Questions? Constructive Criticism? Please Review or PM **


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